


the one with the first encounter

by captainskellington



Series: the ones with the canon divergence [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, pre-Anders/Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6215563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainskellington/pseuds/captainskellington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What's your name?” Anders asked, seeking a change of subject. “Unless you're okay with me mentally referring to you as <em>Scary Dagger Apostate</em>.”</p><p>First impressions can be tough, especially where grumpy mages and cave-ins are involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one with the first encounter

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is going to be the first chronologically in a series that covers the canon of my au (the one with the templars occurs much later on), essentially a canon divergence of DA2. Probably won't cover anything massive that actually occurs in-game. I will be surprised if anyone reads this, but if you do I hope you enjoy!

Anders shivered, which in itself was an awful sign given the stifling heat of Darktown at the best of times.

He turned his head. There was a feeling… a nagging sensation he couldn't quite place, like he'd seen something out of the corner of his eye, an urge to look, seek something out.

He tried to consult the knot of contemplation that was the dormant Justice, but he was every bit as confused as Anders. And wary to boot, which was never a good sign.

The door to the clinic creaked as his assistant Myra let herself in, ready to prepare for the day of healing ahead. A Dalish elf highly competent with herbs and healing, she and her cousin Aaron were the only reason the clinic was still running; Anders just couldn't cope with the needs of the entirety of Lowtown on his own, hard though he tried.

“You look like you've been gargling the elfroot again,” Myra frowned at him, standing listless in the middle of the clinic floor, hands wrapped around the staff he normally kept out of sight. “What's wrong?”

“That was _one time_ , and the bottle was in the wrong place,” Anders muttered. He shook his head. “Would you and Aaron be able to manage if I left for a few hours? I have some… a matter to deal with.”

Myra nodded once and gestured to the door. “Take as long as you need,” she said. “You need a day out of this place every so often, you know.”

“I know. I'll try not to take too long,” he said as he brushed past her. “Thank you, Myra.”

Once out of the clinic Anders hesitated, then let his feet take him wherever they wanted. Inside his chest, his mind, Justice was reaching out with tendrils of his consciousness to try and discover the source of the discomfort.

It was unsettling, like a headache with no discernible source. Anders’ hands tightened on his staff. He passed through alley after twisting alley, following the buzz in his skull. Before long he found himself in one of the many hidden passageways out of the city, nervously biting his lip in the darkness.

Well, he was there now. He figured he might as well see this through to the end.

He just hoped there weren't any giant spiders in this passage. Maker, Anders hated those blasted creatures.

He summoned a small flame to light his way, and walked.

***

The screams echoing through the cavern made Anders hasten towards the exit. As he emerged into the light he saw a small crowd gathered around the entrance to a mine, becoming smaller by the second as one by one their nerve failed and they fled.

The Bone Pit. The tunnel had brought him out by the Bone Pit. The feeling here was even stronger, drawing him towards the mine and into its mouth despite his hatred of all things underground.

He'd loved the Warden Commander, but he'd never forgive her for dragging him into the Deep Roads.

Inside the mine it was even hotter than the alleys of Darktown. There were still scattered miners inside, shouting and fighting to get out. Suddenly there was a cry and a flash of light. Anders breathed in sharply. Standing by a pile of rubble that rose from floor to roof stood a dark haired man, glowing hands extended, curses pouring from his lips as the cave-in debris shook, but did nothing.

“Carver!” the mage shouted, pounding a fist off part of the rocky pile.

“For the love of Andraste, stop that,” came the muffled response from the other side. “It's not working, Garrett. We'll find another way.”

“What's going on?” Anders heard himself ask. He dragged his gaze from the rocks - _there, down there, that's it, that's where_ \- and saw the mage had turned to him, mistrust plain on his face, hands raised in clear warning.

Everyone else had cleared out. Anders almost wished he could follow them.

“Get away,” the mage said in a voice deep with threat.

“Look, I won't-,” not wanting to spook the man any further, Anders simply lit another flame in the palm of his hand. “You can trust me, let me help you.”

 _Let me help you_ , Justice echoed the sentiment, pulsing with approval. Doing good. Helping a fellow apostate. His favourite pastime.

The man eyed him warily, so Anders took the time to do the same. A mess of dark hair, well kept beard, scarred gash across the bridge of his nose, rich golden eyes and the stance and look of a man who was used to fighting his way out of any situation life threw at him.

In return the man would see a skinny runt with blonde hair in a messy ponytail who looked like he was suffering from head pains. Poor him. Anders’ view was considerably nicer.

… _and Maker, where exactly had that thought appeared from?_

“There was a cave-in,” the man said, lowering his hands in a decisive movement.

 _Evidently._ Anders bit his tongue and let him speak.

“My brother and I have ties with the workers here, we were checking out claims of disturbances - weird shit going on - and there was this horrible…” he spoke slowly as if reluctant to give too much away, glanced at the rocks. “Anyway, I'm not sure what help you can be at any rate, unless you happen to know of another entrance to the tunnels.”

Anders groaned before he could stop himself, covering his face in dismay. The other mage looked understandably concerned.

“Believe it or not…”

***

Anders, in a prolonged moment of hysteria, had memorised the entirety of the Warden maps describing the underground tunnels near Kirkwall just in case he ever found himself down there and had to get out. He'd taken particular note of the ones which contained entrances to the Deep Roads so he could stay the hell away from those.

Thankfully, this wasn't one of those. But he still had to lead a grumpy apostate - _another_ grumpy apostate, if he was being honest - deeper down into the earth than he was even remotely comfortable with to try and find his brother and get everyone out.

He shot a sideways glance at said mage as they walked. He didn't look like a mage, his clothes more like the protective garb of a mercenary than the robes Anders was accustomed to. Even down to the daggers strapped to his back.

He was clearly thinking the same thing.

“You know, the templars will have a harder time catching you if you don't wear a massive sign that says _‘I'm an apostate! Have at me!’_ around your neck,” he said, eyeing Anders’ staff.

Anders shrugged. “They know my face. If they see me, I've a better chance of getting away if I can fight with more than just my hands.”

“That's what I have these for,” the mage said, pulling a dagger free and spinning it in the glow of Anders’ fire.

Anders suppressed a snort. _Show off._ “What's your name?” he asked, seeking a change of subject. “Unless you're okay with me mentally referring to you as _Scary Dagger Apostate._ ”

“You find me scary?” he grinned, the grouchy, foreboding exterior he'd been wearing crumbling away at once. He sheathed his dagger, then bowed extravagantly. “I'm Hawke. And I'm positively cuddly compared to my little brother. Try not to soil yourself when we get to him, his bark is much worse than his bite. Usually.”

“Anders. And I'll bear that in mind,” he said, somewhat unsure what to make of the wealth of information suddenly available to him. “ _Hawke's brother: bites gently._ Right.”

Hawke outright laughed at that. Anders flinched as the sound echoed away from them, distorted into something cruel as it ricocheted off the cavern walls. In the distance, something crumbled.

Hawke shot Anders an apologetic look and lowered his voice as they walked on through the abandoned tunnel. “Any idea how long this should take?”

“Not too much longer, hopefully,” he muttered, listening carefully for any more sounds. He was acutely aware that the itch that had brought him to the tunnels was growing stronger by the second, his skin tingling with more than the usual magic.

“Light,” Hawke pointed out, putting out a hand to stop Anders, bumping against his chest. He frowned. “Something's wrong.”

Anders had been about to say the same. The red glow ahead wasn't like the yellow flames kept in mine lanterns. It was almost like…

“ _Maker_ ,” Anders swore, extinguishing his flame and pulling Hawke into a dip in the wall as heavy, clattering footprints hurried past. He closed his eyes, feeling as they disappeared down the tunnel. _Darkspawn. That was the feeling. He'd sensed the taint all the way from Darktown._

_What was this? A new opening to the Deep Roads? This was much closer to the city than any of the others. How long had it been there undetected? How many blighted creatures were nearby?_

“You're a Warden,” Hawke breathed. Their hiding place was tiny, Anders sure Hawke could feel his hammering heart.

“Was,” Anders whispered, face white. Hawke looked like he was about to respond, but Anders lurched forward and covered his mouth just as a group of hurlocks passed the same way as the others.

When they were gone, he staggered back into the corridor. Hawke was watching him closely.

“I,” Anders turned away from him, turned back, knuckles pale in their stranglehold of his staff. Hawke had drawn his daggers. “I'm sorry, I can't, the Deep Roads, I-”

“Anders,” Hawke said, stepping towards him. “We can't turn back now.”

“You don't understand,” Anders said.

“No, I don't,” Hawke admitted. “And I'll seek to rectify that at a later date. But now, there are dozens of miners trapped in a tunnel that joins with this one. Innocent, unarmed people who don't know what's lurking down here with them,” he broke off to take a shuddering breath, and Anders realised he was almost as afraid as him.

“Your brother,” Anders said.

“Carver,” Hawke nodded jerkily. “He's armed, but there's only one of him. We have to get them out.”

Anders wasn't supposed to hear the next sentence, wasn't even sure Hawke had meant to say it out loud. So he pretended he hadn't heard.

But that didn't stop him wondering what he meant by, “ _I_ _won't lose him, too_.”

“Shit. Shit, fine, I'll come with you. But if I die under the blighted ground I swear on Andraste’s ashes I will come back to haunt you, Hawke.”

“You'll make a fetching ghost, I'm sure.”

Anders resisted the nervous, compulsive urge to set fire to the mage’s hair. For the time being.

They crept on.

***

“I don't relish being an alarm bell,” Anders hissed through clenched teeth. Their journey was excruciatingly slow and his nerves were in shreds, his heart racing. Justice was lurking near the surface in the way Anders had come to believe meant that he was concerned.

“No more than I relish your jumping three feet into the air every time I kick a pebble, I'd imagine,” Hawke said in a strained voice. There was silence for a few moments before he spoke again. “Do you think that's what caused the cave-in? A new Deep Roads entrance being blasted out?”

“It's possible,” Anders responded. He didn't really know all that much about the darkspawn given how brief his stint as a Warden had been, but he did know they had ogres at their disposal. One of those may have been capable of breaking through stone with enough force to topple a tunnel. There was no way of knowing, and he certainly didn't intend to stick around long enough to find out.

After dodging darkspawn for what felt like years - which _definitely_ shaved a few years off of Anders’ life - they finally slipped through a crack in a wall and came into the soft yellow flicker that was normal, human torchlight.

Most of the lanterns were fallen and extinguished, a few of the glass panes cracked, but besides that and the odd pile of rubble and collapsed support beam, damage seemed to be minimal. Anders noted there were no bodies to be seen even as he stubbed his toe on a pickaxe.

The darkspawn clearly had not come this far.

_Yet._

Quiet voices could be heard, and Hawke hurried his step towards them, ignoring Anders’ plea to be cautious.

“Wait, was that-” a young man with the same jawline, dark hair and piercing eyes as Hawke turned to face them as they rounded a bend in the tunnel. He stood between them and the crowd of miners, faces pale and drawn in the flickering light.

Hawke’s brother scowled. “It's about time. We were about to start searching for _you._ And wouldn't that have been embarrassing for you, being rescued by the trapped miners. Think of your poor reputation.”

“Never fear, the role of damsel in distress is firmly in your court, Carver,” Hawke said with his usual humour, but it was strained as he pulled his brother to the side. “We have a problem,” he added, lowering his voice.

“Don't we always? No, don't answer that. Does it have to do with the distant clanking I keep hearing?” Carver glanced at Anders then at Hawke, continuing only when he got a nod of approval. “One of the miners keeps saying it's ghosts from the last cave-in. I've been telling them it's you, but…” he shook his head. “You don't wear heavy armour.”

“Let's hope they don't notice that,” Anders muttered.

“It's darkspawn,” Hawke wasted no time in explaining. “There's a new deep roads breach, we think that's what brought the ceiling down. No telling the extent of the damage, but we have to get this lot out of here before we do anything about it.”

Carver’s eyes were wide. “Garrett, these men have never fought so much as a sapling in their lives. Darkspawn-”

“Anders can sense the taint, we made it this far without being noticed. It'll be harder with a large group, but we can still hope to avoid the majority of the creatures, and between us I'm sure we can handle whatever does come our way,” here he paused to glance at Anders. “You mentioned you could fight?”

 _When being pursued by Templars,_ he didn't say. He simply nodded. He didn't particularly like it, but he wouldn't deny one more set of arms to a group already so hideously outnumbered.

Hawke cast his eye over the miners, who were alternating between watching the new arrivals suspiciously and trying not to look as utterly terrified as they no doubt felt.

“Twenty-seven,” Carver said, in answer to a question Hawke didn't have to ask.

A bead of sweat traced its way down Anders’ temple. It was searing hot in the belly of the earth, more than half of the miners wore nothing but breeches, and only a handful had had the presence of mind to keep ahold of their picks and shovels.

“This isn't going to be easy,” Anders said.

Carver laughed despite himself. “Funnily enough, nothing we do ever is.”

***

If Anders had ever had the occasion to herd kittens, he was fairly certain this was what it would be like.

The miners, all grown men and undoubtedly intelligent in their own right, were skittering about like nervous infants in their fear. Anders was grinding his teeth to stop himself chastising them; his annoyance matched blow for blow with his own apprehension, and the torturous procession was only made worse as they went on.

Hawke was at the back of the throng, making sure nobody wandered off or got left behind, so it was left to Carver to accompany Anders in leading their procession. Thankfully, he wasn't as talkative as his brother so Anders didn't have to shush him anywhere near as much.

Justice had busied himself with paying close attention to the blighted buzz in Anders’ veins. He would emit an extra pulse whenever the feeling got stronger to draw Anders’ attention to it. Which was thoughtful of him, really, but Anders’ nerves could only take so much.

They were nearly there. Nearly...

Then a sudden surge had Anders spinning around and shouting, “ _Hawke!_ ”

The miners between them ducked away instinctively and Anders saw the other mage’s eyes widen in alarm as he threw a force shield up behind him.

Anders’ shield was so hastily done that it only tempered one crossbow bolt before it shattered, but by then Hawke had dodged out of harm’s way and the miners had heeded Carver’s cries to get behind him.

“Twelve,” Hawke said of their adversaries as the others reached his side, Carver with his shield and Anders emitting force pulses to deal with the rapid fire. The tunnel was filled with shouts and snarls, and clanging armour. In a lull Anders tossed a fireball into the darkspawns’ midst, scattering them for a few crucial moments and setting a handful of their bows alight.

Hawke made a noise of approval and froze a bolter solid, albeit clumsily. One arm remained free, but that ceased to matter when Carver sank his blade into it.

“Fourteen,” Carver grunted. The brothers were experienced fighters, but more and more of the spawn were being drawn by the noise of the fighting. Hawke had abandoned his magic and drawn his daggers, so it was left to Anders to cover them both as they dived into the fray. They were dangerously outflanked.

“We have to retreat,” Anders warned over the din of clashing metal and pained shouts. Hawke was sporting a gash in his forearm, Carver covered in gore that Anders only hoped was not his own. He leaked what little healing energy he could spare to supplement them, but anything more would have to wait. “ _Carver. Hawke._ We need to-”

A sudden sharp pain cut him off and with a cry he was knocked sprawling to the ground. A bolter had snuck around the fighting and buried a shard of wood and metal deep in his shoulder, and he pulled it out with a snarl and a whimper, regretting it instantly. He pressed his hand to the wound, but his mana was all but spent.

“Anders?” Hawke pushed back through the crowd, all but carelessly beheading a hurlock that tried to bar his path.

“He's right,” Carver said, parrying blows as his brother moved to help Anders. “Fall back, we need to get out of here.”

A sickening sensation flooded Anders’ veins as Hawke helped him to his feet, a steadying arm around him, and Anders choked out a warning.

“Carver,” he wheezed, communication difficult through the pain and fear. “Run, _run,_ Hawke. _Ogre._ ”

There was only time to see the colour drain from the brothers’ faces and Carver take a few staggered steps backwards before the monstrous creature emerged from the darkness.

What few miners had tentatively remained fled as it roared a challenge.

“Don't play the hero, Carver,” Hawke bellowed, pushing Anders behind him and propelling them further down the tunnel. Carver was frozen before them, legs braced in a fighting stance, sword held high. “ _Carver._ ”

Anders bit down hard on his inner cheek as he gave what little he had left to call up an icestorm in the tunnel between Carver and the creatures, his knees giving out as he overshot his limits and unconsciousness nearly took him.

Hawke's grip was the only thing keeping him upright as Carver came to his senses and turned on his heel, running to help his brother prop Anders up as they took advantage of the brief respite Anders’ spell had brought them.

Anders tried to bite back a cry of pain as his shoulder was jarred. Hawke twisted and launched a dagger at their pursuers, felling a creature with a sickening gurgle. The ground shook with every step as the ogre took up the chase, and pieces of dirt and rubble crumbled from the ceiling and lanced them on the head and shoulders as they fled.

The light was slowly getting brighter even as they gained on them, the air becoming cooler and cleaner the nearer to the open air they got. Anders’ heart was pounding in his chest, near to passing out, all three of them were struggling to breathe, breaths short and ragged.

They couldn't let these creatures find their way to the surface.

Hawke swore as a falling shard left a slash down his left cheek, and something shook loose in Anders’ mind.

He fumbled and shoved his staff into Hawke's hand, countering his confused look with a pained gesture at the ceiling.

“Bring it down,” Anders hissed through clenched teeth.

Understanding flooded Hawke’s expression and he came to a halt, spinning and planting the staff in the ground with a cry. Such was the force behind the movement that a crack opened up the ground before him, reaching towards the darkspawn.

A sizeable rock fell from the ceiling and struck Anders’ shoulder, almost bringing him to vomit from the pain. Carver hoisted his shield above their heads and forcibly dragged the mage towards the tunnel’s entrance as rubble rained down on his head.

“Hawke?” Anders gasped, unable to see the other.

“He'll be fine,” Carver shouted, and Anders knew he was trying to reassure himself as much as he was the mage.

It wasn't until they were clear of the tunnel and under the open, late afternoon sky that Carver let Anders slip to the ground. Carver fell to his knees with the tunnel in his sights and Anders propped himself against a boulder as the miners who'd made it came to their sides, pickaxes raised in a brave attempt to protect their protectors.

There was an almighty crash as the tunnel collapsed in on itself, the ground shaking with force as a choking cloud of dust and debris propelled itself from the tunnel mouth.

And with it, Hawke.

He slid to a halt in the dirt, crying out as gravel and grit scraped the skin of his side raw.

Carver lurched back to his feet and staggered to his brother’s side.

Hawke let out an exaggerated groan, and Carver was unable to contain the relief in his laughter as he nudged him with his boot. “Drama queen.”

“I prefer ‘your flamboyant majesty’,” Hawke grunted, rolling over and propping himself up on his elbows. His eyes found Anders and he gave a satisfied nod when he noticed both his companions were all in one piece.

Well, mostly.

And on that topic.

“If you could kindly take me to the clinic in Darktown, that'd be deeply appreciated,” Anders said, while Hawke’s eyes were still on him.

And then he passed out.

***

“...let him know that those mines are off limits now, profit be damned. And get word to Aveline about the darkspawn, we'll work something out with her. Just make sure-”

“Garrett, I'm not going to tell anyone about him. You act like I've never harboured an apostate before.”

Anders’ head felt like it had borne the full brunt of the cave-in. His mouth was dry, throat like a desert, and he was hearing voices. He was definitely hearing voices, because Maker knew why Hawke and his brother would be sticking around if they'd safely transferred him to the clinic.

His fingers brushed rough material, and he recognised the gnarled wood and tough cloth of a cot. Yep, definitely in his clinic.

The door creaked opened and shut again moments later, and then there was a pause.

“Nice place you have here,” Hawke said, and then another cot complained as he hoisted his weight onto it. “The rats are an especially nice touch.”

When no response came, Anders opened his eyes. Myra and Aaron were nowhere to be seen, but there was a bandaged poultice wrapped tight around his wound. At a sniff, he realised that the herbs used were to counteract toxins; the bolt had been coated in something that would have been well on its way to poisoning him, and he hadn't even noticed.

Well, that would have been unfortunate. But it did explain the whole debilitating pain thing.

Anders grunted and tried to get up, but in a flash Hawke’s hand was on his chest, keeping him down.

“Not so fast. I've been told to keep you immobile while Myra fetches more water,” Hawke said, lip curling with amusement when Anders shot him a glare. “I hardly intend to disobey her. Your friend is fearsome.”

“Scary dagger apostate afraid of the genteel Dalish nurse. Wonders will never cease,” Anders forced the hoarse words from his struggling throat with a wince.

Hawke grimaced at the sound of his voice and offered him a jug of what water remained. Anders drank enthusiastically with his help, somewhat embarrassed at being seen in this state.

“Scary dagger apostate needs to focus more on the apostate part and less on the daggers,” Hawke reflected, returning the jug to a table when Anders was done. “You've made me realise how rusty I am. That blizzard thing was particularly impressive, and here I am incapable of freezing even one bolter.”

Anders shrugged his good shoulder. “I've had to inconvenience enough templars over the years, you get kind of creative after a while.”

Hawke nodded thoughtfully.

“Thank you for your help,” Hawke said after a moment’s hesitation, suddenly sincere. “You didn't know what you were heading into, and then when you did… If I'd gone for help, Carver and the others…” he visibly suppressed a shiver. “Maker knows.”

A curious shot of cold passed through Anders’ heart as it occurred to him that he may well never see Hawke or his brother again. “Any time,” he heard himself say, and was surprised to realise he meant it. “But I'd rather avoid the next jaunt into the deep roads, if you don't mind.”

“What a shame,” Hawke laughed. “And here I was thinking of going house-hunting there. The views are better than Lowtown if you find the right thaig.”

“Forgive me for not attending the housewarming party.”

“Truthfully, you couldn’t get me to go back in there if you paid me,” Hawke shook his head, then seemed to consider it. “Actually, if the price was high enough…”

Anders rolled his eyes pointedly, and was rewarded with another of Hawke’s hearty laughs.

“Don’t do that, your face will stick that way,” Hawke smiled.

“Oh, is that what happened to you?” Anders shifted uncomfortably on his cot - _Maker,_  his patients always had to endure this? He needed better cots. “My condolences.”

“You’re lucky I have a moral code that includes not harming people who have holes in their shoulders,” Hawke crossed his arms and smirked down at him, and that…

Anders was glad he didn’t have to think any further about what that look was doing to him, _really_ , because Myra chose that exact moment to kick the door open with her foot, both arms occupied with heavy buckets of water.

“Oh, so he lives, does he?” she said with a touch of scorn. “‘ _I’ll try not to take too long,"_  he says. I’ll not fall for that one again. Didn’t realise it was code for ‘ _I’ll return in twelve hours’ time unconscious in the arms of a rugged, bloody apostate and his brother with a poison bolt in my shoulder._ ’ But I’ll know better next time.”

“Hey,” Hawke said, brow furrowing. “How did you know I-”

Myra dropped a bucket on his foot and glowered at him. “I spend the majority of my time with this creature,” she said, indicating Anders. “You people have tells.”

Hawke shrugged as if to say _fair enough_. Anders envied him the shoulder movements.

“Now if you wouldn’t mind,” Myra made a shooing motion and Anders felt his heart sink. “ _G_ _et_. And don’t come back until you’re at least two thirds cleaner.”

Myra turned and took her buckets to the back of the clinic without waiting for an answer. Hawke gave a deep, mocking bow and grinned at Anders.

“I don’t suppose I’ll be seeing you around any time soon,”Anders heard himself saying as Hawke moved towards the door. _Shut up,_ he heard himself thinking.

He turned his head and saw Hawke looking at him over his shoulder, a curious expression flitting across his face.

“I’ll know where to come when I get an arrow in my gut,” he said with a smile, and then the door was swinging behind him.

 _Rather an arrow in the gut than one in the heart_ , Anders’ mind supplied.

Followed a heartbeat later with an uneasy twisting on Justice’s part, alongside a heartfelt, passionate;

_Oh, fuck off._

**Author's Note:**

> I am [cityelf](http://cityelf.tumblr.com) on tumblr and this series will probably slowly keep getting updated.  
> Let me know what you think and I'll be eternally grateful.


End file.
